


light upon darkened dreams

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: lexi’s season 8 fics [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Discussion of character death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, F/M, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Light Angst, Lots of talk about Felicity, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s08e04 Present Tense, Spoilers for 8x03 and 8x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 19:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21361732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: After the events of 8x04, Oliver remains awake long into the night, getting lost in his thoughts about his children and Felicity. It's a good thing he isn't asleep, because he catches Mia suffering from a horrific nightmare. How can a father comfort his daughter from the future from a bad dream when they're still practical strangers to each other?
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: lexi’s season 8 fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538746
Comments: 18
Kudos: 257





	light upon darkened dreams

**Author's Note:**

> i needed some mia/oliver hurt/comfort, angst and then fluff... because i love this father/daughter duo way too much than is healthy
> 
> i hope you enjoy xx

Oliver paces back and forth restlessly on the balcony of his and Felicity’s old apartment, his cell phone in hand. It’s been a physically and emotionally exhausting day and night, with the fact that his adult daughter and son from the future are currently sleeping inside barely twenty feet away from him weighing on his heart, and he’s busy trying to arrange transport to Russia, so they can find the man necessary to try and build equipment that can replicate (and possibly reverse) the anti-matter wave that destroyed Earth 2.

It’s hard to focus on anything when Oliver’s mind continues to stray back to Mia and William. His son is a genius with his own tech empire, and as sweet and funny as he is - or is that was? - as a fourteen-year-old. He feels as if he and William reconnected almost immediately. Mia, however… is a tough cookie to crack.

She’s been thrust into 2019 via unexpected Monitor time travel methods and is understandably overwhelmed by everything. Oliver and Mia aren’t able to reconnect like the archer did with his son, because they don’t _have_ a connection. His daughter was raised by Felicity alone in isolation for twenty years, believing her father to be dead. Oliver _is_ dead in the future. Mia doesn’t remember him at all because he died when she was a baby, so of course, she doesn’t know him - or trust him. She’s not trying to be cruel to him. She honestly feels as if he abandoned her and her mother, which Oliver can’t blame her for. Lashing out at him is an instinctive reaction, due to being hurt and scared; it’s heartbreaking for him to watch her flinch away from him, because Mia reminds him so much of himself when he first returned from the island, always bristling with uncertainty and regarding people as either targets or threats.

They’ve made the first couple of steps towards developing a proper, genuine father-daughter relationship, though; she’s beginning to lower those protective emotional barriers of hers and drop her guard. Oliver can see Felicity’s gentleness and kindness behind Mia’s outwardly prickly attitude. She’s snarky and witty just like her mom as well; when Mia lets her guard down, which is a very rare occasion but Oliver has witnessed so far when she interacts with William, she’s unfathomably sweet and, he has no doubt, affectionate. He hopes that he can continue to get to know her so she eventually feels completely comfortable around him.

Deep in thought, Oliver can’t help but peer up at the sky, at the tiny pinpricks of light spanning the sea of darkness. Back when he was living in the cabin with Felicity and baby Mia, his wife would often take their infant daughter out onto the porch and point out constellations to her at night. His heart clenches in his chest as he wonders if Felicity is doing that tonight; maybe there’s a possibility that they’re gazing up at the same stars. He misses her terribly. Oliver may be on a mission to save the entire multiverse, but he can’t help but desperately want to see his wife and baby girl again. Does Felicity continue stargazing as she raises Mia by herself? Perhaps he should ask his adult daughter… having Mia and William here is grounding him, and although they both remind him of Felicity so much with their humor and mannerisms, making him miss her even more, their presences make him feel less lonely.

“I wish you could see our kids, Felicity,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “They’re remarkable… just as remarkable as you.”

His eyes zero in on Antares, a red supergiant star that Felicity taught him about when they started their stargazing together the first night after they moved into the cabin. It’s red in appearance and the most prominent star in the Scorpius constellation. Ironically, it’s early November so they’re in the middle of Scorpio season right now. His wife always liked to talk about it because it has a sister star, Antares B, that is described by astronomers as the ‘little glittering emerald’. She used to say that the sibling stars would represent William and Mia, that they would be as close as the two stars.

Oliver closes his eyes, bowing his head. Of course, that didn’t turn out to be the case. William and Mia were raised separately and didn’t even know about each others’ existence growing up. Yes, they’re close now, but it kills Oliver to imagine what it would have been like for the two of them if they had lived the lives he wanted for them, safe and happy and as a family.

Running his hands over his face, Oliver slips his cell phone away and determines that it’s too late to attempt to arrange anything more tonight. It’s nearing 3am and he feels like his body is about to collapse. He set up the pull-out couch earlier for himself to sleep in, since Mia is sleeping in his and Felicity’s old bedroom. It’ll destroy his spine, but he’s slept on worse. He doesn’t think he would be able to sleep well anyway; he has too much on his mind.

Oliver is just locking the balcony doors when a sharp, piercing cry echoes through the apartment. Freezing, the archer tenses and listens carefully, ready to leap into action within half a second if he needs to. Whoever made that noise… sounded like they were in pain. Seconds later, another cry tears through the night’s silence - this more of an agonized whimper than a shout - and Oliver’s heart _drops_, his lungs seizing. He knows where those sounds are coming from - and he knows who is making them.

Rushing over to his bedroom, Oliver resists the urge to burst in. His heart hammering, he knocks urgently on the door, calling, “Mia?”

There’s no response. He thinks he can hear jerking, heavy breathing and soft sobs. Now worried beyond all belief, Oliver decides that he’s okay with risking his daughter getting mad at him entering the room without permission, if he can make sure she’s alright. Cracking the door open, he peers inside. The sight that greets him makes him fall back against the wall, shaking hand covering his mouth in shock and anguished tears springing to his eyes.

Mia is curled up not on top of the bed, but instead on the floor in the fetal position, the green woolen blanket that used to be Felicity’s favorite wrapped around her. She’s using one of her mother’s hoodies as a pillow, her face buried into the fabric. The pajamas he laundered for her are lying crumpled in a pile on the ground; she’s elected to stay in leggings and tank top. Oliver suspects that it’s because she wants to be ready to jump up and leave, or fight, at a second’s notice. Trembling all over and thrashing occasionally, Mia appears to be caught in the throes of a nightmare. If the tortured sounds escaping her throat are any indication, it’s a particularly awful one.

Oliver takes a faltering step forward, conflicted on what to do. He hates seeing Mia in pain - he feels like he’s being stabbed repeatedly every time she whimpers or cries out - but he just… doesn’t know what to do. His daughter will probably try and hit him if he attempts to wake her up, and he doesn’t want Mia to react badly if she finds out that it was her father who woke her. He has a feeling that she would not be receptive to his presence at the moment - undoubtedly she’ll be embarrassed about being caught having a bad dream, clam up and refuse to talk to him. Maybe he should go and get William? Would Mia’s big brother know how to wake her up from a nightmare?

Mia releases a strangled whine, sounding like a wounded animal. Oliver can’t take it anymore; his heart is being crushed. Striding into the room after closing the door quietly behind him, he approaches his sleeping daughter carefully, halting a good five feet away from her and lowering himself onto the floor. It’s freezing against his knees and he winces, knowing that Mia must be terribly cold if she’s just got the thin blanket to act as a buffer.

“Mia, wake up,” he says, his voice firm and loud enough in volume that he hopes it cuts through whatever nightmare she’s having. “It’s okay, whatever is happening to you, whatever’s going on, it’s just a dream. None of it is real. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up. You’re safe.”

She doesn’t stir. In fact, Mia seems to be gripped even more tightly by sleep, and brings her arms up to cover her head protectively as she shivers uncontrollably. A glimpse at her face, scrunched up in pain and streaked with dried tears, causes Oliver to exhale with a stutter, devastated. His daughter must have cried herself to sleep earlier. He didn’t even hear her. Was she muffling her sobs in her mother’s hoodie? Has she been deliberately hiding her sorrow from him and William, because she’s afraid of them fussing over her and overwhelming her even more?

Oliver only knows one thing for sure: he needs to wake Mia up, _now_, before she accidentally hurts herself. There’s no time to go and collect William. He could walk out of the bedroom for a single second and Mia, who has obviously broken through her sleep paralysis, could move in such a way that injures herself. It would be cruel if Oliver allowed her to continue suffering through her nightmare.

Shuffling forward on his knees, Oliver holds his breath, swallowing nervously. With one hand, he slowly reaches out to touch Mia’s shoulder. “Mia -?”

Her body jolts up and within seconds, she has him in a half choke-hold, her legs wrapped around her father’s waist as she tries to strangle him. Mia’s panting, panicked breaths are hot against Oliver’s ear. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to react defensively and flip her off him. If he does that, he’ll initiate a fight, and he will _not_ fight his own daughter. Instead, Oliver gently takes a hold of her wrists and eases them away from his neck ever so slightly, so he can breathe safely. He moves so that he’s lying on his side, his daughter behind him, so her weight isn’t resting on him. Then, he waits. He has to be patient; if he pries her off him, it’s likely she’ll only tighten her arm around his neck until she’s constricting his airways again. Mia has to relax, and she can’t do that if he’s struggling against her. Eventually, a minute or so later, Oliver feels her hold on him slipping and her legs loosening.

Rolling away from her once he’s released, Oliver turns and clenches his jaw when wild, terrified, bemused green eyes stare up at him. Mia seems to be awake now. She’s hyperventilating and poised like she’s about to bolt away from him. Her blonde hair is tangled and hangs over her face, which is ashen in the moonlight that’s cascading through the blinds. She’s every inch a cornered, wounded animal. In an attempt to make her feel less trapped, he pushes himself away from her, out of her personal space.

“Mia?” he asks cautiously. “You back with me?”

For a beat, she doesn’t answer. Her eyes flicker around the space in agitation, as if she doesn’t recognize where she is. After her scared gaze lands on him again, she doesn’t relax, but she appears to realize that she’s not in any immediate danger. Oliver feels awful, because he really wants to comfort her, but he doesn’t know how. Felicity would if she were here, he laments. His wife always knew how to calm him down from a nightmare.

He and Mia are practical strangers to each other still; they’ve bonded a little over the past day or two, but she doesn’t feel safe around him yet, and that’s evident by the way she flinches back at the sight of him. Oliver tries not to show how much that gets to him, how upset he feels as his own daughter recoils away from him. Mia needs his attention, she needs his help - he needs to focus solely on her wants and needs at the moment.

“Dad?” she finally breathes, her voice a tired croak. “What are you doing in here? I - I was sleeping.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, staying still to avoid startling her. “You were having a nightmare. I was concerned.”

Her eyes widen before flitting down to the blanket she’s clutching in her fists. “Oh. I’m - I’m sorry.” God, she sounds _ashamed_. Oliver wants to sweep her up in a hug and never let her go. But if he tries to get close to her when she’s in this distressed state, he’ll probably end up with a broken nose. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he assures gently. “And if you had, I wouldn’t mind. It’s okay. You were moving around a lot and… and shouting… I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurting yourself.”

“Did I hurt _you_?” Her expression contorts into one of trepidation.

Oliver didn’t think it was possible for his heart to sink further, but it does. Mia is really afraid of lashing out in her sleep and hurting somebody. He remembers how horrified he was when he nearly killed his mother when she woke him from a nightmare his first night back from the island. “No,” he tells her, keeping his tone soft.

Mia nods, keeping her eyes lowered down as she twists her fingers into her mother’s hoodie. Oliver bites his lip. He wonders if it still carries Felicity’s natural scent on it, and that’s why Mia picked it out to use as a pillow instead of an actual one. He waits to see if his daughter is going to say anything more, but she doesn’t - she stays silent.

“You know you can talk to me about it if you want to, right?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t want to,” she replies hastily.

Oliver brushes that off, refusing to feel hurt by that. It’s not that Mia doesn’t want to tell him specifically - he reckons that she wouldn’t be prepared to admit to anybody what her nightmare was about. She’s withdrawn into herself; those emotional protective barriers have slammed back up into place. Considering the agonized noises she was making and her level of thrashing, whatever she was dreaming about was extremely traumatic for her. Oliver isn’t going to push her into speaking about it if she’s not ready to.

“Okay,” he agrees. Mia looks surprised, but quickly schools her expression back into one of blankness. “I know from experience that it’s difficult to get back to sleep after a nightmare. Do you want to come into the kitchen and help me make some tea? When your mom struggled to sleep back when she was pregnant with you, I used to make her a valerian root herbal blend that helped her overcome her insomnia. It helps me as well… it might help you.”

Mia shoots him a wary look. “Won’t we wake up William?”

“Oh, one thing I know for sure is that your brother sleeps like a log,” Oliver informs her with a small smile. Heaving himself to his feet, he offers Mia his hand to help her up as well. When she tenses up, eyes darting from his extended limb to his face with an unreadable expression, Oliver allows his arm to drop, trying not to feel disappointed. “Coming?”

“Give me a minute,” she mutters, brushing her hair back. “I’ll join you soon.”

Nodding, Oliver departs from the bedroom quietly, half-closing the door behind him but making sure it’s still open a crack so he can hear his daughter if she needs him. Rooting around in the kitchen cupboards, he manages to find the steel containers with pressed, dried herbs and infusers he used all those months ago to brew tea for his pregnant wife. With practiced hands, he pinches various amounts of different herbs into the infusers, relieved to find that the muscle memory hasn’t left him yet.

Oliver is boiling water, humming under his breath, when Mia finally emerges. He tries to fight his instincts to immediately turn to greet her, instead allowing her to approach him. Her footsteps are silent against the floorboards and he has to his sensory perception to work out where she’s moving to. Eventually, Mia comes to the stop at the breakfast bar again, where she enjoyed a Monte Cristo with her brother earlier in the evening.

Hopping up onto the counter smoothly, she twizzles around on it until she’s facing him, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, but there’s a haunted gleam to them that tells him that she won’t be sleeping anytime soon. Oliver attempts to catch her eye, but Mia is aiming her fatigued gaze down, resting her chin on her arms folded on top of her knees. It’s a position that the archer found his wife in many times during her pregnancy, eating icecream or snacking on Cheeze-Its in the middle of the night. Mia has the green blanket wrapped around her hunched shoulders like a cape and her wavy blonde hair twisted up into a bun. Oliver exhales shakily; his daughter looks so like Felicity. 

“I presume you have a sweet tooth like your mom and want honey added,” Oliver comments, pouring hot water into two mugs and then swirling the tea infusers around to flavor it. Instantly, a distinctly herbal scent hits the air.

Mia tilts her head at him, but doesn’t respond verbally. Taking that as confirmation, Oliver stirs a teaspoon of honey into her cup before carrying the tea over, placing it on the counter in front of her. She hesitates before swinging her legs down to dangle off the end, taking the mug and cupping it between her hands to warm them. He watches her eagerly as she takes a sip. Given that she doesn’t grimace, he takes that as a good indication that Mia likes it.

“Has William had this before?” she questions.

Oliver chuckles. “No, he’s always been more of a hot cocoa drinker than a tea enthusiast.”

“He’s a coffee addict now,” Mia muses.

“Just like Felicity,” he smiles. “Want something to eat?”

She shakes her head. “No, not hungry,” she answers, her voice small.

Oliver emits a soft sound of understanding, taking his tea over to the dining table, where he takes a seat. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes I lose my appetite for an entire day after my nightmares.”

“Do you have them often?” Mia questions hesitantly, after a tense beat.

“I used to have them every night before I met Felicity,” he admits, tracing the rim of his mug with his calloused fingertips. His daughter perks up immediately, paying him her full attention now; she always brightens whenever Oliver mentions her mother. “And they were awful too. Did…” he pauses, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. “Did your mom ever tell you about my five years away?” When Mia nods, frowning, he continues, “I had nightmares about that. I felt like I was consumed by darkness when I first arrived back from Lian Yu. Always angry… hypervigilant, and self-destructive. I didn’t think I deserved anything, and believed my life was meaningless if I wasn’t trying to save Starling as the vigilante. Felicity was my light.” Mia is intrigued now, listening intently. Oliver smiles wistfully, remembering that night in the clocktower back in 2014 when Felicity told him that he wasn’t alone, and that she believed in him, before hugging him with such warmth that the archer felt like he was worthy of love again. “Your mom is the best part of me. She’s made me a better human being, just for loving her and being loved by her.”

“You miss her,” Mia murmurs.

“Every second of every minute of every day,” Oliver replies, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Mia nods, peering down into her tea, and he thinks he can see tears brimming in her eyes. “I miss her too,” she whispers.

She says that as if in the future, Felicity is… no. Panic strikes Oliver, constricting his lungs. He stands hurriedly, stumbling forward urgently, almost tipping his mug over. “Your - your mom, in the future, she’s not -” he rasps.

“No, no, she’s not dead,” Mia rushes to reassure him. “She’s just… gone. A couple of months ago, she left, saying she had to go on ‘her own journey’. We… we think that she went searching for you. Even though everybody always said you were dead and you had a gravestone, I don’t think Mom ever gave up hope that you were alive somewhere.”

“She left? To _where_?”

Mia turns on the defensive. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “She didn’t exactly tell Will and me where she was heading.” Her knuckles turn white as she grips her mug tightly. “I hope she’s okay. I can’t get through a day without worrying about whether or not she’s safe. We've already lost so many people."

Oliver narrows his eyes as he reads more into what his daughter is admitting without actually speaking it aloud. He knows from what William said earlier that one of their teammates in the future, Rene's daughter Zoe, was killed... probably right in front of Mia. He watched her expressions back then during that discussion, and saw the survivor's guilt haunting her. He had nightmares about Tommy dying in his arms after it happened. It wouldn't be far-fetched to assume that his daughter is having bad dreams about Zoe dying in hers, forcing her to relive that moment.

“Mia,” he says softly. “Was your nightmare about Zoe?”

She bristles at him, and he instantly realizes that it was a bad idea to ask that question. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps. Sliding off the counter, she shoves her half-empty mug across the counter in frustration. She yanks her green blanket off her shoulders, beginning to storm back towards the bedroom. “Thank you for the tea. I’m going to try and get back to sleep.”

“Mia.”

He catches her wrist and winces when she freezes, stiffening at his touch. Mia stares at him with apprehensive, tear-filled eyes, looking as if she’s seconds away from ripping her arm from his grasp and snarling at him. Oliver’s resolve wavers for a moment, scared that she might withdraw if he presses forward. But this is Mia. His daughter. He loves her and wants nothing more than to protect her. To develop a connection with her. Especially considering what happens to him in the future. She will open up to him, if he is patient, and gives her time and his understanding. 

“It’s… it’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that,” he says gently. “You told me earlier you didn’t want to talk about it, and I broke your boundaries. I shouldn’t have done that. I respect that there are some things you want to keep private, and I will not pressure you for any information you aren’t willing to give, I promise. Just… please, don’t push me away.”

Her tears spill over. Crying quietly, she exhales in a trembling gasp, “Dad,” relaxing in his grip.

“I love you,” he continues firmly, feeling choked up himself. “I love you, and I always love you, completely and unconditionally. Because I’m your father… because you’re my daughter. I may not have had the chance to raise you, and you are perfectly right to hate me for leaving you and your mom to go and be a hero, because that’s how I died… but you will always, _always_ be my little girl. And I will never stop caring about you, no matter what. For as long as you’re here, I will be ready to listen to whatever you have to say, and prepared to do anything for you. If you need space, I will give you space. If you’d like a smothering overprotective father to fuss over you, I will be very, very happy to be that. If you don’t know what you want, that’s alright too.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek tenderly to wipe away the gathering wetness there. “Okay, kid?”

Mia nods, her chest jerking in a sob as she takes an unsteady step toward him, straight into his arms. Oliver closes his eyes in relief and sheer joy as he hugs his daughter for the first time. She’s so small in his embrace. The archer rests his chin on top of the crown of her head as she buries her face in his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. The hug only lasts a couple of seconds before Mia is backing away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear sheepishly. Her cheeks are flushed, which makes Oliver grin, because her mom gets the exact same face blush when she’s been caught doing something that she thinks is embarrassing.

Picking her mug of tea back up, Mia mumbles, “I’m gonna take this back to your bedroom and finish it there.” She begins walking away but halts briefly, to glance back, meeting her father’s gaze. He sees gratitude and appreciation in her eyes, which are less cold and stony than before. “Um. Thank you. For the tea and… and for the talk. I know it can’t be easy for you to speak about Mom.”

“Hey, we’re a family,” Oliver’s lips tick up into a grin. “You, me, William, Felicity. The three of us may miss your mother, but she’ll always be with us, here.” He taps his heart.

“And she’s only a three-hour drive away in Bloomfield,” Mia adds. “With… baby me. God, that’s weird to think about.” Shaking her head, she focuses back in on him and finishes their conversation by saying, “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Mia. Hey, do you want to spar in the bunker tomorrow morning after breakfast?” He’s reluctant to actually train her, especially as he’s terrified of accidentally hurting her, but he’s seen that Mia can handle herself well in the field. Some sparring will give him a better comprehension of her skills.

She gives him a tentative smile. “I would like that.”

He leans back against the kitchen table, observing his daughter as she disappears into the bedroom. Oliver spends the next ten minutes nursing his tea in silence, mulling over the events of the last half an hour. Mia is definitely still a little distant, but she’s gradually letting him in. He feels as if they’ve made a great start so far.

Once he’s drained his mug, Oliver quietly pads across the living room to go and check on his kids. A careful glance into William’s room assured him that his son is fast asleep, even snoring lightly. He’s cautious as he cracks open Mia’s bedroom door. She’s on the bed this time, although not under the covers. She appears to be asleep, her breathing deep and even. Breathing out in relief, Oliver switches off all of the apartment’s lights, re-checks the locks and then heads over to the couch’s pull-out.

Collapsing down onto it on his back, he stares up at the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines the stars twinkling above him. He and his wife and children are all sleeping beneath the same constellations - the distance between them feels negligible when he thinks of how their fates and destinies are tied together, making their bonds stronger than the universe. Bigger than the universe.

“I’ll look after our kids, Felicity,” he murmurs. “I’ll make sure they stay safe. I’ll protect them from everything that can cause them harm, including nightmares.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and a comment xx
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


End file.
